


Throne Room Rendezvous

by Slaycinder



Series: Slay’s Scandalshipping Extravaganza [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Ancient Egypt AU, M/M, Pharaoh Atem - Freeform, Scandalshipping, Slay's a Huge Pervert II: The Pervening, Throne Sex, ancient egypt counterparts, high in protein, priest set - Freeform, sappy love sap, very juicy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 13:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13975911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slaycinder/pseuds/Slaycinder
Summary: "There were two things that Atem had to admit were true: One, that Set was sitting on Atem's throne, and two...he looked resplendent. Damn him."(This was written as a companion/bonus fic for "Ruined," but can be read as a stand-alone.)





	Throne Room Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheTransversalArtisan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTransversalArtisan/gifts).



> Shout-out to the lovely TTA, who edited this fic and taught me the black magic behind writing ellipses. o3o
> 
> (This takes place a couple weeks before "Ruined," for anyone who read that fic first.)
> 
> Support the Author at:  
> [Ko-fi.com](https://ko-fi.com/loismb)  
> or  
> [Follow Me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Sweet_n_Lois)

It was midnight under a bright and broken moon, and there were two things that Atem had to admit were true:

One, that Set was sitting on Atem’s throne, and two…he looked _resplendent._  

Damn him.

All silver and shadow, an entrancing figure caught in moon rays from the narrow windows above. He didn’t usually dress down when he was free from the priesthood, but tonight he’d settled for a pleated shendyt—and nothing else. It made his long legs, crossed so confidently, _very_ hard to ignore.

He didn’t stir as Atem approached, just lounged on top of the world like it was his rightful place. Proud as a king, silent as a god.

It was a very seductive image.

Atem _had_ suggested they meet here, as it promised to be dark and sparsely guarded, what with the pharaoh allegedly retired to his rooms for the night. Leave it to Set to sweep in first and take the most salient spot in the hall. Perhaps he should have seen this coming. Perhaps some part of him had.

“Your Majesty,” this impossible man greeted, and Atem had to snort at the irony of it. He paused before the throne for only a moment, and then the longing rose high and hard in his chest, and he slid down into Set’s lap, curling into the heat of a familiar body, drawn in by familiar hands.

“Mmm…” Atem hummed deep in his chest. “You’re in my seat.”

“And you’re in mine,” Set murmured, unabashed, hands roaming. “ _Iset ib.”_

If Atem blushed at that, the darkness would never tell. He tilted his head. “Impostor. My Set would never say something so poetic.”

A scoff. “Not if you were just going to toss it back in his face.”

Atem kissed him, a swift apology. “I would never,” he insisted, earnest in both action and word. “You simply surprised me. That’s no small feat—you should be pleased.” He tucked in close. “Say it again.”

Set responded with a tug on Atem’s hair that bared his throat and made him gasp. “ _Iset ib,”_ he breathed, then dove in to spill kisses and whispers over an eager neck, calling Atem by names both sweet and fierce, leaving the Mighty Pharaoh flushed and dizzy in his arms.

It was a tight fit for two grown men on the throne; but tight was good. Tight kept their legs slotted firmly together, and when Set dragged the robe from his shoulders, Atem only had room enough to squirm. Chest to breathless chest, sigh upon naked sigh, the sounds of their union began to steal dangerously through the hall.

Set seemed content to keep things slow and quiet, to bind Atem in his lap, massaging and kissing and murmuring disarming things in his ear; but the feeling wasn’t mutual. Atem ground impatiently against Set’s thighs, pulling and biting in the hopes of escalating their encounter.

Their only cover was the lateness of the hour—the throne was meant to be seen from all corners of the room, and shadows wouldn’t hide them long from well-adjusted eyes. They risked exposing their passion with every passing second, and the threat of being seen was a delicious chill at Atem’s back. He wanted to make the most of it. If they were going to get caught, they may as well be caught having _fun._

That’s probably how his hands ended up inside Set’s shendyt, tugging where it split, finding his mark between Set’s legs.

Said legs tensed tellingly beneath him, and the sensation felt so intimate that Atem tensed in return, rising up on his knees and rolling his body forward. He dared a soft moan, like a pressure in his core was threatening to escape. “I could impale myself on you _right here.”_

Right on his own golden throne, writhing in complete submission atop a seat of dominance. It was a well-developed fantasy in his mind (the impaling more than the throne, but he would never say no to both).

Set’s groan wasn’t the least bit erotic. He stilled Atem’s hips, pushed him back down on his haunches.

“We’ve talked about this.”

“ _I know,”_ Atem whispered viciously. He could feel the mood slipping. He didn’t want to lose it. Not over this dead horse. “I know.”

Set kissed his chin and then his mouth, kneading his hips and speaking softly, “And even if I did indulge you like that, it wouldn’t be here.” His voice dropped almost out of hearing, “Not the first time, anyway.”

“Oh?” Atem leaned back into Set’s chest with a preying grin. “So there could be a _first_ time? Implying that there could also be a _second_ time? And a _third?”_

He couldn’t see the color of his cousin’s cheeks, if it had warmed or deepened; but he learned just as much from the way Set ducked his head and cleared his throat.

He nudged against Atem’s collarbone. “Perhaps we’ve been here long enough. We should go.”

“Oh, no,” Atem huffed, inching off of Set’s lap and bending forward, bracing himself on the arms of the throne. “Not until we’ve had some proper fun.”

“Proper…? Ah! _Atem!”_

Set protested, but was too late; the king’s hands were back inside his shendyt, skin on skin, so warm and unwavering, coaxing, calling forth his arousal.

Atem sank to his knees, a dangerous smile carved into the shadows of his face. 

“That’s right,” he purred. “Proper fun.”

What a sight it would make: a priest on the pharaoh’s throne, with the Pharaoh himself kneeling in prayer between his legs, almost completely stripped of his clothing. Atem pictured it with a thrill as he unfastened Set’s shendyt and licked deep inside his thigh, a slow, wet trail that ended in a sharp bite, right above a thrumming pulse.

Set slid lower in the throne, breathing heavily into his fist. “If…someone sees us….” He made a weak sound in his throat. “If someone sees you like this.…”

Atem hummed and swayed his hips in the air, “Lucky them.” He dragged a kiss along Set’s skin, grinning into the fleshly-sweet scent of sex blooming around him.

Set was hard as alabaster in his hand.

Atem bit his lip.

“Mighty Pharaoh,” He intoned wryly, breath ghosting over Set’s heated head. “Ruler of Rulers. I kneel before you, a humble servant—”

“Atem….”

“— _desperate_ to please you.” Atem’s tongue dashed out to claim a drop of viscous pre-release. “ _My king.”_

Set hissed sharply, one hand muffling his sounds, the other smoothing up Atem’s arm, crawling into his hair, pressing his head forward.

Atem shifted obediently, swallowing the length of Set’s cock in one breath, mewling at its fullness against his tongue.

“Mmn…” Set growled above him, and the sound traveled carelessly through the hall.

Atem heard this and chuckled through his nose, laving his tongue and working his throat, preening under the second hand that came to claw his scalp. He pulled off with a sigh. “Are my methods to your liking, Your Majesty?”

“I did _not_ tell you to stop,” Set rumbled quietly, and the commanding edge of his voice struck Atem right between his thighs.

There was a tug on his hair, but Atem was already lapping at Set’s hardness with renewed vigor, moaning and rocking his entire body in time with his ministrations, humoring himself with the fantasy of being claimed from behind.

Set still refused to take him in the way he’d been taking Set for almost a year; but Atem was determined to persuade him. It wasn’t a matter of desire, so much as a matter of preserving the Pharaoh’s dignity—as if his dignity were so fragile! One day, Set would see that this was different, that they were just as equal in lovemaking as they were in everything else.

But in the meantime, Set was making strained and staggering sounds in the darkness, and Atem could feel the cock pulsing in his mouth like a heartbeat, the climax quickening against his tongue.

Then he heard footsteps.

Set cut his sounds off abruptly, breathing hard through his nose. His hands clenched painfully in Atem’s hair, trying to stop him, to push him off—but Atem persisted, bobbing, sucking and curling his tongue.

He squeezed Set’s wrists in reassurance, managing to pry the vice-grip from his hair. Set was too weak with rising tremors to fight. He relented, taking Atem’s hands in his, weaving their fingers, helpless to the pleasure, submitting to the danger.

If they were caught now, there could be no question of what they were doing. There was no stopping it. No turning back. 

Set came in a brutal heave, body rolling, arching jerkily off the throne, a long, desperate thrust into Atem’s mouth. “ _Ah—_ hmm!” He threw his head back and struggled to keep quiet.

Between his legs, Atem was struggling too—forcing sex-stained breaths through his nose so he could drink down wave upon wave of seed. He grunted and tightened his lips, unwilling to lose a single drop. He wanted to be full; he wanted to be _marked._

When he finally drew off with a slick _pop_ , there was dribble cooling on his chin and no air left in his lungs.

They both relaxed at once, Set slumping into his seat, Atem’s head resting on his thigh, hands still linked, panting out of rhythm.

There were still footsteps echoing down the throne room, but they didn’t sound any closer. Atem glimpsed a distant torchlight over his shoulder—a pair of guards crossing the hypostyle. They didn’t even slow their pace, and within seconds the light was gone.

They were safe.

“Unbelievable,” Set gasped, freeing one hand so he could stroke Atem’s hair.

“Our luck, or my technique?”

“Either.” An affectionate pinch on Atem’s ear. “Both.”

The king, still on his knees and leaning limp against his priest’s lap, chuckled silently—but only for a moment. He quickly became aware of a miserable ache deep in his core. His own arousal had gone completely neglected and was now throbbing in protest.

“My _king_ …” he puled, crawling back up into his cousin’s lap like a needy cat. He bucked hollowly against Set’s stomach. “Don’t you think I’ve earned a reward?”

“And then some,” Set said easily. He guided Atem down for a barely-coordinated kiss, all bumping teeth and sliding lips. “Of course, I can barely _move,_ thanks to _someone_.”

Hands wrestled the robe from Atem’s waist and cast it aside, leaving him to shiver in excitement. Fingers pressed between their kisses, curling into Atem’s mouth so he could soak them in spit and spend. He did so eagerly, hoping he was right about where those fingers were going.

Atem took the initiative to begin stroking himself shamelessly in Set’s lap, resisting the urge to squeal when those long, wet fingers teased his entrance. He brought one hand up to Set’s shoulder, the other steadily working his shaft. He whimpered audibly at his own sensitivity, and Set cupped a hand over his mouth.

“Shh, shh, shh.” He brushed his thumb over Atem’s lips, stilling his touches to that tender spot below. “If we’re caught, you won’t get your reward.”

A hot tongue dabbed kittenishly at his thumb. Atem nodded, sliding an arm around Set’s neck as he continued to stimulate himself, his tip already weeping against Set’s navel. For his part, Set circled Atem’s tightness, enjoying the way he lurched in response, then tucked his first finger inside.

“Oh…” Atem’s breath hitched. “I should have brought that damn oil.”

“Please, it would have just given you more bad ideas.” Set eased most of his finger out. “Is it too much?”

“No...no, I want it,” Atem whispered, wincing in spite of himself. “It’s not so bad.”

Set made an unconvinced noise and withdrew his fingers, crushing a kiss to Atem’s mouth before he could protest. He reached between them, brushed gently over the dripping head that was prodding him in the stomach. He broke their kiss with a grin.

“Look at you. So wet…. Will there be anything left for you to release?”

There was a retort on Atem’s tongue, but it died when Set took his length and stroked upward, gathering what he could of the liquid arousal. He salvaged a bit more off his abdomen and exposed Atem’s entrance with his free hand.

“Tell me if it starts to hurt,” he ordered, then buried his finger to the last knuckle.

Atem tried to muffle his cry in Set’s neck. This time was easier. It felt more sticky than sleek, but it was better. Now he could sense the erotic pangs behind the ache. He focused on them, dared them to grow deep in his body. He breathed hard into his priest’s skin and resumed his self-pleasure, pumping slowly, afraid he might finish before Set could really open him.

“I want you inside me,” he confessed breathlessly.

Set pointedly filled him with a second finger. “I am inside you.”

Atem huffed, rutting his hips, his arm tight around Set’s shoulders. “You know what I meant, you ass. _I want yo_ u inside me.” He gasped when Set wedged a third finger into him. “I want you to take me the way a man takes a woman. The way I’ve taken you. I _want…ah….”_

The fingers curled nimbly inside him, thrusting hard, hitting deep. Set’s other hand wrapped under his thigh, pinching and pulling at his flesh.

“I know what you want.”

The wave was coming. Roaring, rising, ready to crash. He pictured Set doubled over him, mounting him like a beautiful beast, claiming him for all the gods to see. Perhaps the entire world. He pictured someone finding them, either here, defiling the throne, or somewhere else, with his priest’s cock driven hard between his thighs.

“And I want it too.” Set’s voice found him through the sensory chaos, but only barely. Atem was going lightheaded with orgasm. He couldn’t even bear to touch himself anymore. He cinched his arms around Set’s neck, grinding against his stomach, panting helplessly.

“Someday, Pharaoh,” Set continued, his quiet, level tone the closest thing Atem had to sanity. “If it is truly what you want,” he twisted his fingers and snarled in Atem’s ear, “ _I will claim you from the inside out.”_

“ _Set!”_

It hit him so _hard._ Atem choked on a scream and clawed blindly at Set’s skin. The zenith passed quickly, and Atem came down to Set kissing his neck and palming his flagging length, easing him back from the brink. He made to pull his fingers out, but Atem gripped his wrist to stop him.

“Please…” He gulped. Gods, he could barely speak. “Stay in. Just a little longer….”

Set was in the middle of acquiescing when a yell made them both jump.

“Hey! Who’s back there?”

A torchlight was traveling up the hypostyle, illuminating the heads and shoulders of two guards, black spears waving at their sides.

Atem was still vibrating from his climax, immediately exhausted, but Set had no such hindrance. He acted quickly, holding Atem snug so he could bend forward without dropping the other man from his lap, retrieving his robe, and yanking it hastily over Atem’s arms. He tied the robe too tight, then rose to his feet, hoisting Atem up and depositing him on the throne.

Atem slumped bonelessly over one arm, propping his head on his fist, not bothering to cross or even close his legs. Set straightened the robe over his chest and his lap, muttered,  “Try to sound intelligent,” then vanished.

A second later, the guards were catching their breath a couple of paces before the throne. Their eyes widened in the torchlight.

“Ph—Pharaoh Atem!” They each dropped to one knee and ducked their heads. “We did not expect to see you out at this hour.”

“And I did not expect to be disturbed on my own throne, in my own palace, in the middle of the night,” Atem groused.

“A thousand apologies, Your Majesty, but isn’t it dangerous to be without an escort—?”

“What’s _dangerous_ is arguing with a pharaoh who has yet to get any sleep tonight.” Atem waved a hand testily. “Leave me.”

“Y-Yes, Pharaoh,” one guard sputtered. “As you wish.”

As the guards retreated, Atem noticed that he was sitting on top of Set’s shendyt. Wherever his cousin was hiding, he was completely naked. He looked around uselessly in the dark, but his curiosity was soon sated as a gentle hand touched his shoulder. He tipped his head and was greeted with a sweet kiss.

Set straightened up and whispered, “May I have my clothes back?”

“Hmm…” Atem reached out to feel the long lines of Set’s stomach, extending the caress to his hipbone, then his thigh. He bit his lip and smiled.

“No.”

**Author's Note:**

> Research Notes:
> 
> \- Iset ib, “the heart’s desire,” translates literally to the “seat of the heart.” (At least, it does according to the article I read, which was actually about Isis, but mentioned this phrase due to the shared etymology.) I firmly believe Set would stomach something sappy just to make Atem blush.
> 
> -As I learned in my previous research, priesthoods in Ancient Egypt were observed in something like shifts, rather than all the time. Between periods of service, a priest would return to another job, like working as a scribe, or an architect, or what have you. In that regard, Set’s not breaking any rules here. (But he’s definitely breaking some rules in “Ruined” where he is very much on-duty. Ehuehue~)
> 
> Support the Author at:  
> [Ko-fi.com](https://ko-fi.com/loismb)  
> or  
> [Follow Me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Sweet_n_Lois)


End file.
